


Insufferable

by subconforest



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subconforest/pseuds/subconforest
Summary: Due to a mishap on set (and a spur of the moment contract), the Conductor finds himself working alongside Snatcher. There's more common ground than they expected, which only makes their budding relationship more terrifying than it should be.





	Insufferable

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the shipping tag, they're not going to be together for quite some time. I want to build up to it and have their relationship make sense, so this is my way of trying to describe why I think they'd make a nice pair.
> 
> This chapter is basically setting up the premise, but I enjoy writing out their dialogue regardless.

It was, by all accounts, a stunt gone wrong.

The Conductor, by nature, is overly ambitious. When that’s paired with his tendency to be stubborn, that’s just a disaster waiting to happen. He strives for every movie to be bigger and better, _especially_ as far as the Bird Movie Awards are concerned. Sure, he may find ways to rig the system, and yes, he hasn’t been known to play fair. This year would be different. The entire incident with the small hat child only reignited his desire to win through _his_ stunts, _his_ ideas, and most of all, _his bloody train_.

Of course, that’d be more helpful if there was a bloody train to use―even now, the Conductor can’t tell what started the whole mess in the first place. His first instinct, as always, is to blame everyone around him for it. An Express Owl messed up the bomb’s timer, the owl in charge of pulling the stunt off hesitated, the owls brought him the wrong kind of bomb to use, every excuse in the book that absolved him of blame. He knew the truth, though: he, the director, made a gross oversight, and now there is no train to work with. Not for the movie, and _especially_ not for his main line of work: conducting the only train on the entire planet.

Luckily, it’s still the weekend. He’s made up an excuse for why the train isn’t running, but there aren’t any owls (that he’s not using for his current movie, of course) heading to work until the week starts over again. The owls who witnessed the explosion were threatened not to tell a soul, of course, so most of the population doesn’t know.

Yet.

 _What a disaster of a word that is,_ he thinks to himself, nearly stumbling over an exposed root. Where is he, anyway? The Conductor swears he was just at the bar, drinking his sorrows away and vaguely lamenting. Maybe he a wrong turn on the way home somewhere? He’s been so lost in his own thoughts that, admittedly, he was not paying attention to where he was headed. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. There’s no train, there’s no feasible way to get a train in such a short amount of time, and frankly, he doesn’t quite see the point in existing in the moment as long as he doesn’t have his train. He continues to mentally lament the loss of his livelihood, drinking the rest of the contents of his flask (that he may or may not have filled on the way out from the bar while the bartender wasn’t looking) and trying not to fall over.

“You _really_ thought you could step into _my_ forest in _that_ condition?” A sigh. “Normally, I’d have to trap unsuspecting visitors, but I can’t trust you to walk far enough to see it!”

The voice catches him off-guard, but the Conductor recovers quickly. “Eh?” he says, leaning on a tree and trying to figure out where the voice came from. “Who said that?”

“Look up.”

As soon as he does, he realizes he’s come face to face with a ghost. At least, he’s assuming that’s what this guy is. A shadow, maybe? A specter? Oh well, whatever. He’s not sure, and frankly, he doesn’t care.

“What, ye own an entire forest? Ridiculous!”

“Actually, yes, I do,” he insists. “That level of disrespect from a drunkard is a punishable offense, you know.”

“Then do somethin’ about it, peck neck!”

“Thanks for your permission! I was going to regardless!”

“There’s not much left for me without me train,” he says. “Go ahead! I’m not afraid of whatever yer gonna do!”

The other gives pause, tilting his head (and whole body, for that matter) to the side. “Your train? You’re giving up on living because of a _train_?”

“What about it?” The Conductor leans on the tree more heavily. It’s getting difficult to keep standing. “It’s me whole career! Well, that and movies, but I need me train fer that too!”

The spirit puts a hand to his chin, looking deep in thought for a moment. “As much as I don’t like you already, I get the feeling I should be merciful to some degree. Fine, I’ll strike a deal with you, and it’ll benefit the both of us. What do you say?”

Truth be told, the Conductor is not as coherent and put together as he usually is. Something about the drink causes him to not fight things as much―heck, it’s why he does it in the first place! It’s a way to unwind. Of course, the anger does end up seeping through, but he lets things slide much more easily. His judgement is in shambles. His ability to stay upright is gone. He is not in any condition to be making a deal.

“Aye, sure, throw whatever you have at me.”

He’s going to be making a deal anyway.

“Going to do it the easy way, I see.” There before the Conductor is a freshly made contract, with its own quill pen to boot. “Go ahead, read it!”

“Nae,” he says, “I’m not sober enough fer this.”

“Can’t even be bothered to read it, huh?” The ghost before him makes some ‘tch tch’ noises, frowning. The bird is unable to tell how authentic this is. “Am I feeling merciful enough to give a summary? Hmm... We don’t even know each other’s names, and you want this kind of thing from me. You’re really asking a lot out of me.”

“The Conductor,” he helpfully slurs out.

“Great, don’t care!”

“Then why’d ye bring it up in the first place, peck neck?”

Although he doesn’t have pupils, he can still somehow tell that the ghost is rolling his eyes. “ _Fine_ , I’m the Snatcher, at your service! See, all I really require from you is your soul, and―”

“Ye just want me soul? Pfft!” He laughs, nearly losing his balance in the process. The Conductor grabs onto the tree. “Fine, take it! Not like I’m doin’ much with it anyway! Actually, didn’t know I had one, now that I think about it.”

“Normally, that is all I’d want,” Snatcher says. “But since you’ve been giving me a hard time, and you interrupted me while I was speaking, I’m going to ask for something else from you: let me be in one of your movies.”

The laughter stops. “What!? No! I’m not letting ye just walk up and decide yer gonna be in my movie!”

“And I’m not letting you have an entire train without some form of compensation since your soul alone won’t cut it,” he replies. “It’s quite simple, really. You’re asking a lot out of me, bird brain, and I can only be so generous.”

“Nae! Pick somethin’ else, I’ll do anything besides that!”

“You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate, you know.” He leans in, looming over the Conductor as he continues. The bird isn’t phased. “Either you take the deal as it’s presented to you, or you get absolutely nothing at all. In fact, I think I’ll take your soul regardless!”

Unfortunately, this forest entity is right. There aren’t a whole lot of options left for him at this point. He can swallow his pride and give in to desperation, or he willing gives up his life (that doesn’t have a point to it without his train anyway). Actually, now that his alcohol addled mind thinks about it, both options involve the sacrifice of what little autonomy he has left. It’s live or die, and which would he rather do?

“Hand the contract over before I change my mind, peck neck,” he says, sliding down to the ground. The Conductor has given up trying to stay standing while also voluntarily giving up his soul. Hey, at least he’ll have a reason to live! Does he even want to at this point? Well, too late now, he supposes, sitting up and trying to sign the document with the wrong side of the pen. Snatcher, albeit reluctantly, helpfully flips it for him. He tries to mumble that he had it, but no, he really didn’t.

“There ye are.” The bird tries to hand the pen and contract over to the ghost, but it disappears out of his hands fairly quickly. “So, when do I get me train?”

Snatcher smiles. “In due time.”

Then, he wakes up.

The Conductor sits up, bleary eyed and trying, for the life of him, to figure out where he is. It feels unfamiliar, and yet he’s clearly on one of the couches in the VIP room of his train. He doesn’t even remember going here, let alone falling asleep. The massive headache that he has coming on isn’t helping matters much either. Rubbing his temples, he tries to process everything, the room seemingly spinning as he tries to stand up, so he lets himself sit back down again. Why’s this room tinted _purple_ , anyway…?

“Ooh, careful, you shouldn’t be getting up so quickly after drinking that much.”

_Ah, peck._

He turns around, holding his head after such a quick movement aggravates it. Snatcher, eternally smiling, looks at him from across the room. “What’re yer doing in here!? How long have ye―”

“You sure do yell a lot.” He moves closer to the Conductor, leaning on the back of the couch. The bird scoots himself as far away from him as he can. “Can’t imagine that’d be good for your hangover.”

“Answer me, peck neck!”

“For your information, my minions directed me here.” The ghost motions to a couple of small, purple creatures in the doorway, who only wave enthusiastically. “They’re the ones who put you in here after you passed out in my forest. I was just coming by to ask you where your set is.”

“Set?”

“Your movie set?” Snatcher tilts his head to the side. “Don’t you remember our arrangement?”

“Our… Arrangement?”

“You know, I’ve been wondering what kind of bird you are, but at this rate, I think I’ll assume you’re a parrot from the way you’re repeating everything back at me.” With a snap of his fingers, a contract appears in front of the Conductor. “You can read over it now if you want! Pretty sure you’re sober now, right?”

“Wh―” He grabs it, skimming over the words. The events of last night before his untimely blackout hit him as soon as he sees his signature at the bottom. The Conductor can’t bring himself to finish the entire document, and he lowers it, looking over to the Snatcher. While he tries to stay calm―he’s taking deep breaths, telling himself it’s not as bad as he thinks it is―his anger ultimately wins out. “Why yer no good noodle lookin’ contract writin’ PECK NECK! I WASN’T IN ME RIGHT STATE OF MIND WHEN I SIGNED THIS!”

“What was it you said before? Something about there not being much for you left without your train?” The Conductor freezes in his tracks, and the way he stares back at Snatcher only causes the latter to laugh. “Oh, you forgot you said that, didn’t you?”

The bird takes a deep breath, letting a hand run down his face. Quietly, he says, “I didn’t think I _said_ that.”

“That’s _too bad!_ You did, and you completely screwed yourself! Now, are you done looking that over?”

“Nae,” he says, “let me get something straight first: yer giving me this train in exchange for being in one of me movies.”

“Correct.”

“And if I say no?”

Snatcher smiles. “Then you should also say bye to this little locomotive of yours.”

“Can’t we make another deal?” he pleads. The Conductor hates swallowing his pride for this, but what else has he got to lose? He already lost whatever was left of his dignity the night before. “I’ll give yer anything else! I can’t afford to mess this up!”

“Are you assuming I’ll do something to ruin your movie?” The ghost’s smile fades. He just looks disappointed, but the Conductor feels nothing. “Oh, I’m absolutely _hurt_. A stab in the nonexistent gut.”

“Yer not even good at acting,” he grumbles. “How am I gonna win the Annual Bird Movie Awards like this?”

Snatcher blinks. “What, that’s it? You’re trying to win some trophy?”

“It’s about more than the trophy, peck neck!” The Conductor huffs, his voice getting louder the more he speaks. “It’s about the recognition! Being the best there is! Keeping me winning streak! _Proving me movies are better than DJ Grooves’!_ ” He spats out his rival’s name like it’s venom on his tongue. Snatcher only seems more intrigued. “That lousy good fer nothin’ thinks his movies are better than mine, and I can’t have you comin’ along and ruining that fer me, can I!?”

“That’s great and all, but that doesn’t change anything.” Was the peck neck even _listening?_ “As much as I want to be heavily invested in your little rivalry, the fact of the matter is you’re stuck with me! Doomed to star in whatever bargain bin trash you’re making this time!”

“IT’S NOT TRASH!” He pauses. “Bargain bin!?”

“If you admitted that you’re a parrot, this entire conversation wouldn’t get on my nerves as much as it has. C’mon, _pal_ , give me a chance to say something in my defense.” Snatcher slips an arm around the Conductor, who promptly smacks it off. “Ooh, you’re a touchy one, aren’t you?”

“Me movies are better than yer makin’ them out to be! If they’re so bad, why do ye wanna be in one so much!?”

Snatcher shrugs. “It sounded interesting at the time! Frankly, I regret making this deal too, especially after having to put up with whatever the past few minutes have been!” He moves away from the bird. “But, hey, a deal’s a deal. As much as I want to go back on it, I’m a man of my word. So, I’m stuck with you until production wraps up, which is…?”

The Conductor sighs. “A couple of months at least. I’ve fallen behind schedule enough as it is.”

“Wonderful! I’m going to hate every second of it.”

 _So am I_ , the Conductor thinks to himself, rubbing his temples. His headache persists, and he’s not sure it’s coming from the hangover at this rate. He has to force himself to calm down―the Annual Bird Movie Awards is fast approaching, and every second he spends trying to debate with this _thing_ is time wasted. _Deep breaths, Conductor, deep breaths._ He looks down at the contract again, trying to actually finish what he was reading before. He rolls it up, shoving it into his pocket. “We need to head straight to the studio, then.” He walks past Snatcher. “That’s where I was last shooting. It’s going to be a pain trying to fit _you_ into this movie, but I can do it.”

Snatcher smiles, floating alongside him. The Conductor tries very hard to walk ahead of him, but it’s not working. “So, what, going to rewrite it all so it’s all about me? That’s very generous of you!”

He turns on his heels, pointing a finger at the ghost that’s, admittedly, much taller than he is. Height never stopped him before. “I’m going to make this clear once and fer all, peck neck: yer not STARRING in MY MOVIE! Nothing about what I read said _you’d_ have to be the main focus, and yer not going to be! You’ll be in it, you’ll get a role, but that’s _it!_ Do ye hear me!?”

Snatcher stares at him for a moment, and then starts laughing. Wheezing, hysterical laughter. As the bird rares up to begin another tirade, the ghost speaks. “Okay, okay, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to notice that part of the contract. Normally I’d go back, make up some excuse, maybe change it to something that makes your life a _lot_ harder, but I’ll give you a break.” He almost pats the Conductor on the top of his head, but thinks better of it, retracting his hand and putting it on his own hip instead. “Don’t think I’m going easy on you, though! You still have your contractual obligations to fulfill, and I won’t stop being a nuisance until you properly include me. That’s up to my own judgement.”

Better than nothing. There’s some relief (and satisfaction) in being told that he finally has some sort of upper hand on the other, but it feels like a hollow and forced victory. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get to set already.”

Lord knows Snatcher’s going to make this shoot a lot harder than it needs to be. Ultimately, the Conductor will adjust―he’s always been one for a challenge.


End file.
